


Of Tables That Turn

by Neferit



Series: Unexpected Journeys to Hobbit Kink Meme [7]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dwarves Seek Refuge in Shire, Alternate Universe - Hobbits Live as Long As Dwarves, Alternate Universe - Viola and Bilbo being BFFs, BAMF Hobbits, Community: hobbit_kink, Exiled Dwarves, F/M, How Many AUs I have here dammit, M/M, More tags to be added, New Headcanon About Buttons, Not betaread so far, Sass, Some Parts inspired by Dragon Age game, Where I pull things out of my hat, Work In Progress, probably slow updates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-01-25 15:17:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1653212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neferit/pseuds/Neferit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for a prompt:</p><p> </p><p>  <i>So at the beginning of the Third Age, the hobbits begin to migrate. The reasons for this happening are unknown, but suspected that this was due to the rising evil in Mirkwood. We're going to say it was DEFINITELY because of shit going down in Mirkwood. The first place the hobbits thought to turn to was Erebor. They were turned away for being too soft and having no places amongst dwarves. (They were also turned away from other settlements, resulting in them being distrusting of the other races.) Thus their Wandering Days continued until they came across the Shire. A looooooong time later, Smaug attacks Erebor. No help comes from the Elves, and the Dwarves become a wandering race. They hear of a prosperous land full of kind, soft people and decide to head towards that. Thorin, as the leader of a lost people, decides to have a meeting with the Thaine and whoever else important enough in the Shire to talk about settling near Hobbiton or Tookborough since their home was taken by Smaug.</i></p><p>And truly, do these tables turn...</p><p>Chapter Six taken down for some changes, will be back soon (hopefully).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolog: The Long Walk

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt can be found [here](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/7346.html?thread=16188850#t16188850).
> 
> Also, as you probably noticed, I sure am unhealthily addicted to by OC Viola Whitfoot.

 

When our people left the land east of Anduin River, we had nothing except the knowledge that for the first time in countless centuries, we were alone and homeless.  
  
It was Bowman's dream that one day we we would have our own homeland, where we could live as we chose. We hoped for help along the way, and asked for help countless of times - but to the neverending surprise of all of the hobbits, it was not the dwarves who would help us in the time of need, oh no. Instead, they shut their gates before us, refusing to help those who they viewed as weak and pathetic, who were unsuitable to enter their mountain kingdom.  
  
Thus Bowman, also called Shapeshifter afterwards, vowed to find hobbits a new home, after they were turned away by many more settlements but the elves of Greenwood, and the elves of city of Rivendell, who taught us how to use bows and slings, and how to hunt for our food, so at least our children wouldn't starve while we pressed on, walking tirelessly towards the West.  
  
But it would be unjust not to mention the only two dwarves who weren't indifferent to our fate; craftsman Ragri and his wife, a jeweller, Bolbari. They spent many a coin to ensure the hobbits had at least some food for the long journey West, wishing them all the luck in the world, refusing any thanks, claiming they only did what their hearts told them to. May their names are forever recorded in the Memories, and remembered till the end of the world.  
  
We called our journey the Long Walk, for that was what it was. We walked with what little we had on our backs. Whole families, women with infants, the old and young alike--all of them made their way across the land on foot for we didn't had any beasts of burden. And if one of our people could no longer walk, we carried him, or sometimes left him behind, our heart heavy with loss of every single one of us.  
  
And the Green Lady, Yavanna, rewarded those of us who did not waver by bringing us to the land of Shire. And since then, the Shire is our home, the one we fought to make fertile with the magic everyone's two hands could make, fighting to keep the dangers away, Bowman being the first of those we named Thains, every single one of us considering themselves adults once reaching 33 years of age, as that had been the age Bowman took the mantle of our leader.  
  
Never again shall we be wandering aimlessly, our bows will be strong and our wills unbreakable. Never again will any of ours be left behind. Never again will we be at anyone's mercy.  
  
Thus we swear.

\- _From telling of Everard Bunce, recorder of Memories, chapter one of History of the Shire_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any feedback is more than welcome :-)


	2. One

 

_I do not hold grudges. I hold memories that keep me better prepared for our next encounter._

_-_ from _personal journal of Bowman the Shapeshifter_

**-o.O.o-**

It had been many years since Thorin led his people from burning Erebor, running from the dragon that took residence in their (now) former home. It was his father, Thrain, who led them in the beginning, and the first place they went to had been Moria, Khazad-dûm, another of mighty dwarven fortresses, overtaken by orcs not that long ago.

Thrain believed they had the numbers (not to mention enough desperation to use instead of numbers) to take the city back, and be able to return with dwarves who fled from Moria to Erebor not long before Erebor herself fell, but the fates thought otherwise.

They lost terribly at the battle of Azanulbizar, at the eastern gates of Moria, and were happy to retreat without any further loses to add to the already terrifying numbers of dead and wounded.

That was when one of the elven messengers, together with a group of healers, arrived to battered dwarves, helping with the wounded.

“There are legends of small and peaceful folk far on the West,” the messenger said, his eyes holding a gentle light to them, “who live in a land of soft, rolling hills and rich fields. Maybe that is where you could look for a better fortune.”

Thorin didn’t say anything to the elf, only his mind thinking something along the lines of sodding tree-shaggers, who could stuff their recommendations to somewhere where Thorin would not be forced to see them. Just like those weed-eaters - first be all high and noble, than to stab you in the back, only to act as if nothing happened.

But when he and all of the dwarrows crossed the Misty Mountains and another elf, this time from Rivendell, approached them with the same message (only to be rather rudely sent away), a seed of doubt began to take its roots in Thorin’s mind.

Maybe those peaceful and small folk would need protection, and would be willing to deal with them. Maybe the dwarrows could have home again.

Still, it took years before he and his people came even close enough to this almost mythical land, and when he, Dwalin and a small group of guards entered the forest that separated them from this land, they were in for quite a surprise.

**-o.O.o-**

They were walking through the forest for hours, when the piercing feeling of being watched settled between their shoulder-blades. Apart from the usual sounds of trees and animals no other sound could be heard, when suddenly, a twang announced an arrow being fired.

With the arrow landing at their feet, a warning came.

“Halt! Step no further!”

A lone figure, smaller than any of the dwarves present, appeared from among the trees, bow pulled and another arrow nocked. Thorin couldn’t see the face of this person for they had their cape pulled down, but the voice was clear, and the figure definitely had feminine curves.

“Well,” the figure said, her voice sounding distinctly amused. “What have we here? A group of dwarves, barrelling through the forest like high water, making enough noise for us to be able to make them into hedgehogs blindfolded. What is your business in the Shire?” her voice snapped like a whip. “If it is precious metals and gems you are after, then you better turn back and return to where you’ve came from. There is nothing of the kind in the Shire.”

For a moment Thorin had to fight off the urge to back snap at the woman in front of him, as Dwalin just shook his head slightly. He sighed inwardly. If only anyone else were here – he was no diplomat, and everything seemed to be depending on how well he handled this encounter.

“I’m Thorin, son of Thrain, son of Thror, from Erebor, and I come here to ask for help in…”

He was unable to finish for the woman before him lowered her bow, threw back her head and laughed. It wasn’t mocking or even amused laughter, which was the only thing that stopped Thorin from pulling his sword (as well as the tiny sound of arrows being nocked); it was the bitter laugh of someone who encountered irony and knew best how to enjoy it to its fullest.

“That’s rich,” the woman whose face they finally could see clearly, as the cape fell down (she was rather pretty, if completely bare-faced, with wavy hair pulled into a loose bun, with piercing blue eyes). “When we came to the gates of Erebor, the gates were shut before us, for according to the dwarves we hobbits were too weak and pathetic to be allowed to enter their halls, even if our elders and children had been dying out of cold and hunger before your gates. And now,” those piercing eyes stabbed into his, “ _now_ you have the guts to come here and request help?!”

And Thorin had absolutely no idea what the woman was talking about. This will be a very long, and very unpleasant talk, he was sure of it.

**-o.O.o-**

It showed he was right. The woman refused to say her name, or her rank, and instead she hissed the history of Long Walk at him, glaring at him the whole time.

“Who was this king Under the Mountain you are speaking of?”

“His name was not worthy of remembering. The Memories didn’t record it, just like it didn’t record name of any of the dwarves, apart from two who were worthy of it.”

They argued for quite a long time, and Thorin was losing even the precious small amount of patience he was known to posses, when the woman made a slashing gesture with her hand.

“Enough!” she snapped. “This can’t, and won’t be, decided here. Return to your people, Thorin son of Thrain, and come to the edge of the wood in the morning. You will be taken before the Assembly, and this matter will be solved there.”

The woman turned her back at them, obviously uncaring of how bad it could end, before she stopped in her tracks and turned her head towards them. “If you wish to improve your chances of being heard, I suggest you search for descendants of craftsman Ragri and his wife Bolbari, and take them with you.”

With those words, she stepped to the trees and in a blink it was as if she was never there.

“Let’s return,” groused Dwalin, his eyes glued to the place the woman stood last. “We better look for these descendants before it’s too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the wonderful feedback I keep on getting, be it kudoses, bookmarks, comments (I love them! *nudge* *nudge*) or subscriptions - it certainly kept me motivated, when I was working my ass off at those chapter-openings, be it writing them from scratch, or searching for appropriate quote on the internet. Meaning - I have about eight of those, and no chapters to add to them xD I know, that is just bad.
> 
> Anyway, several notes:  
> \- as mentioned in the prompt - timelines are to be destroyed. Heavily. I do not think I could have smash the timelines together as much as I already do in what I'm working on right now, but believe me, you have no idea.  
> \- this thing is still unbetaed, so if you spot any error that just kicks you in the face, please, tell me.  
> \- did I mention I love feedback yet? Because I totally do.


	3. Two

 

_The Assembly of Representatives, as it is often referred to in official language, is – as the official name suggests – group of specifically picked people, who are deciding for the Shire as a whole; be it law, or relations with surrounding areas._

_Being a picked Representative is a life-long commitment, or at least commitment for as long as a hobbit is able to work with demands of his position._

_The whole Assembly surrounds Thain; rank of Thain is hereditary, and after being passed down in Oldbucks it was moved to Took family, and had been there for almost a millennium. Thain has the power of vetoing any decision made by the Assembly, and return it to them countless of time, until he or she is content with the decision reached. Theoretically speaking, if the whole Assembly rules in accord, they can overrule the Thain, but such a situation never occurred._

_There always is a chosen Steward, who is making sure the Assembly is able to reach agreement in whatever issue they are working on. His function is to be a neutral member of the Assembly, and given his neutrality, he’s not allowed to vote in decision making._

_Of others, there is Mayor of Michel Delving, Master of Buckland, Baggins of Bag End and Deshyr of Westfarthing. All those are hereditary, and if Steward is picked from among them, his position is passed on closest male relative, or – in case there is no male relative in direct line – to their female relatives, as well._

_The last, and not hereditary position in the Assembly is Commander of the Shire; position of great honour, as it is bestowed only to those who showed exceptional courage, as well as great skill with weaponry and in diplomacy, for Commander commands every hobbit capable of holding a weapon and often is the first one to meet with any stranger coming to the Shire. This position is mostly occupied by men, but during the history of Shire there had been two women in this place as well._

_As all that is created by living creatures, even our Assembly has its flaws, as the Representatives may hold grudge or are unwilling to reach agreement with each other out of spite. Still, the Shire prospered under her Thain and Representatives and no one felt any need to change things._

\- from _Concerning Hobbits – a study of Hobbit Community_ by Milo Proudfoot

**-o.O.o-**

For the first time in decades, Viola Whitfoot, Commander of the Shire, was at loss what to do.

Right now, she commander her men to gather as much food as they could, find a carriage and several ponies. Another had been appointed as messenger, and as he had been preparing for the quick ride to Hobbiton to notify the rest of the Assembly of the need to meet dwarven representatives, Viola quickly composed herself.

She stood proud in the face of dwarven King, throwing the old wrongs into his face, but part of her felt compassion to the dwarf.

Every hobbit knew, if not from experience, what it was like to find oneself displaced and homeless.

Still, the outrage at the dwarf not even knowing what she was talking about when she mentioned the previous meeting between their races had been overwhelming. The tale of Bowman the Shapeshifter, who abandoned his childhood games, so he could lead his people to new home, had been told from parents to their children, and parts of it had been used to open every Assembly meeting, to make the Representatives remember that the needs of few mustn’t overrule the needs of many.

She told the King to bring descendants of the only two dwarves, who were worth of remembering and mentioning in the Memories, Ragri and Bolbari. Those, if still alive, might be more knowledgeable.

Sighing, she rushed to follow after the dwarves, to see where exactly they went. If any of them had any suspicion of being followed, none of them showed it the entire time they were in the forest.

The next day, Viola had been hiding at the edge of the forest; her patrols surrounding the place just in case the dwarves decided to do something… unwise. Then the dwarves appeared, with the first light; the King, the robust dwarf with mohawk of all possible hairstyles from the day before, another dwarf with grey hair and beard, three guards from the looks of it, and…

And three other dwarves; two with brown hair, and one with silvery white hair, all of them looking slightly nervous to picked out of the whole dwarven population all of sudden.

She stepped from her hiding place. “Thorin son of Thrain,” she gave the King a small bow; low enough to be respectful, yet not low enough to be viewed as humble. Then her eyes settled on the three dwarves. They had eyes of radiant brown colour, shade like no other, described in Memories countless of times.

In several quick steps, she was standing before the youngest of them, offering a bow deeper than the one she gave the King, ignoring the way he bristled at that. “You must be descendants of Ragri and Bolbari,” she spoke. “Welcome to the Shire.”

She quickly returned to business, if only not to make any further interaction more difficult by what could be seen as a sign of disrespect, quickly pointing them to the ponies waiting just behind the bushes she stepped out of, explaining that the saddle bags hold food for the travel. One of the dwarves angrily started that they wouldn’t eat while their people go hungry, only to have Viola roll her eyes at them.

“I’ll have you know that here in Shire we feed our guests – uninvited and unwelcome as they might be,” she said drily, whistling the signal for her men to move the carriage where the dwarves could see it. All of them spent half a night by running around the forest, hunting for as much wild game as possible, gathering everything edible in reach, so they could bring it to the dwarves nearby. Two of her men, Dudo and Malo, were picked to help with the cooking, as well as instructing the dwarves what is edible and what is not, should it come to needing more.

For a moment Viola wondered, whether it would actually be possible to _not_ argue with the dwarves at least once – as soon as she told the three guards that they are to remain here and escort her men to their encampment they immediately started to protest.

Sweet mother Yavanna, it certainly made sense that nearly no one bothered to deal with dwarves.

**-o.O.o-**

Ori himself had been quite surprised by the awe he could see in the eyes of those… hobbits, as they looked at him and his brothers. He never felt like anything special – just a scribe apprentice, a troublemaker, and owner of a small teashop; born from a line started at wrong side of sheets of a prince and a commoner. Nobody ever gave them a second glance, while now, they were suddenly asked by their family line, and obviously, they were to be paid great respect.

At least, if the King and the hobbit woman would reach an agreement.

Ori understood what the woman was after – after all, who would let a group of armed strangers into their land? King Thorin, however, decided that he just wanted to create problems for himself, much to the frustration of the hobbits.

“If I may suggest,” Balin finally interrupted the growing argument, “I would follow on what the good woman,” he made a sweeping gesture to the woman, “suggests and departed without the guards. After all, someone really needs to make sure our people understand correctly what is the intention of our hosts, and that we are not, In fact, kidnapped.”

Finally a voice of reason.

They finally made their way into the Shire, the hobbits surrounding them as they rode through the forest and the small hills. The leader of their escort finally got to introduce herself as well. “Viola Whitfoot,” was what she said when Ori asked her about her name. Ori was interested in hearing more of this land of hobbits, and Miss Viola showed to be quite willing to indulge his curiosity, her voice fervent and enthusiastic when she spoke of her homeland.

But then she closed off, when she mentioned the long standing friendship between hobbits and elves, and the dwarves made their opinion of such matters known.

“You would do well not to insult our friends, Thorin Oakenshield, if you wish to find new home here,” Viola hissed, her eyes shooting lighting, and from that moment on, the whole group continued in tense silence.

**-o.O.o-**

Dwalin and Balin were unsure of what exactly they had been expecting from this Assembly their guide mentioned several times already, but both of them had been positive that this was something they most certainly didn’t expect.

First, the hobbits obviously built their home, and their halls in the soil; unlike Men, who tended to build houses, and Elves, who would build tall structured of wood and stone, or Dwarves, who would build their halls in the mountains.

Second, to dwarves, the Assembly rang of people who were old enough to earn the wisdom that would grant them such a high rank. Yet looking at this Assembly, apart from the one they called Thain, the rest of them looked too young to be a part of something so important, and Thorin with his foot-in-mouth attitude sure didn’t help the matters, when he voiced that sentiment and sent the Assembly sputter in indignation.

Apart from the Thain himself, there had been six other hobbits – their guide, Viola Whitfoot, one of them. While the rest of them had been seated at the round table in the centre of the big room and served some refreshments, she sat on the windowsill, appearing to not pay much attention on what is being discussed at the table but Dwalin could recognize the alert stance she tried to hide.

The hobbits introduced themselves. So, there had been the Thain himself – Fortinbras Took. Then there had been Steward – Everard Oldbuck; if Dwalin understood it right, it was Steward’s job to make sure everyone behaved, and it was he who had the power to stop any meeting, if he were of opinion that things are getting out of hand and everyone needs to calm down. Mayor of Michel Delving, Minto Fairbarn, seemed to have his mouth stuck in permanent smirk. Master of Buckland, Polo Rumble, was a sombre looking hobbit, whose face gave nothing away. Deshyr of Westfarthing, Togo Brockhouse just glared at everything and everyone. Baggins of Bag End, Bilbo Baggins, as he introduced himself, looked at them with a strange mix of indignation and sympathy, and when he (obviously) thought no one is paying attention to him, he exchanged a long look with last member of the Assembly, Commander Viola Whitfoot.

The Steward, Everard Oldbuck, started the whole meeting with a soft tap on the table. “If I understood Commander’s report correctly, you are here to attempt to make a treaty with us, Thorin Oakenshield?”

“That I am,” Thorin nodded. Balin by his side immediately rushed to speak, all too much aware of how easily Thorin could slip and offend everyone without even meaning to do so. He quickly outlined what the dwarves were after (a place to live and make their home out of) and what they were offering (various crafts, as well as number of able bodied dwarves who could strengthen the defences of the Shire).

The hobbits were all quiet for a moment, before the Mayor spoke: “So… dwarves lost their home, eh? Funny how those tables turn, wouldn’t you say?”

“That is no laughing matter, Minto,” exploded Bilbo. “They lost their home just like we did all those centuries ago – would you call _that_ funny?”

“Of course not – but at the same time, it was them who refused us any assistance. Why should we open our homes to them now? We do not need them,” joined Togo the opposition, and Polo nodded his agreement.

“I believe it should not be forgotten that there are at least three people here, who are proof of that statement not being completely truthful,” interjected Everard, nodding his head to the three young dwarves, who once again seemed rather nervous under the scrutiny.

“Then I say we let these three and possibly their relatives stay and tell the rest to go on their merry way,” snapped Polo stubbornly. “It would be only fair, since there were only _two_ dwarves willing to even speak with us, while the rest of that kingdom, starting with its _King_ and ending with the lowest of them, was unwilling to even _look_ at us!”

“I can’t believe you are actually saying that!” Bilbo seemed to be really angry at his fellow hobbits. “I really thought us hobbits better than to hold such silly grudges!”

“ _Silly grudges_?!”

The hobbits started to argue among themselves in language the dwarves didn’t understand – but given the increasing volume of their voices, it certainly was a very heated argument. When it looked like the Steward would have to stop the meeting, Bilbo shot a look to the only hobbit not sitting by the table, mouthed something and Viola spoke from her place at the windowsill, effectively stopping everyone, as they snapped their heads in her direction.

The silence that descended at the whole room seemed deafening for a second, before the arguing started again, this time with red faced Viola joining in, as she fiercely argued about something, pointing her finger in the direction of the hobbit she was arguing with.

Steward interrupted the fight with what sounded like a suggestion and everyone surprisingly calmed down. He asked something, and three hands immediately shot up – Polo’s, Minto’s and Togo’s. Then he asked another question, and Viola’s, Bilbo’s and most surprisingly, Fortinbras’ hands went up, making the Steward blink in surprise.

Viola left her place by the window and went to lean her side against Bilbo’s chair, crossing her arms on her chest. Steward spoke again, only to be interrupted by Polo, who in turn got hissed at by Viola. In reaction to that, Togo and Bilbo snapped at each other, before Fortinbras signalled he would like to have word.

He spoke surprisingly calmly, given the high level of emotions running all around the table – agitation and nervousness on the dwarven side, and anger together with outrage on the other side. When he finished speaking, the others were left gaping, before Minto, with his ever present smirk sniped something at Viola, who immediately rose to the bait and snapped something as a reply to that, falling silent only after Bilbo laid his hand on her forearm.

“If it would be allowed by the rest of the Assembly, I believe our _guests_ ,” he stressed the word, “should be made aware of what we decided here somewhere peaceful.”

“You are, of course, right,” agreed Fortinbras smoothly, with a single glare silencing everyone who would dare to voice a disagreement with him. “I suggest taking them to Bag End, where you can discuss it with them.”

Bilbo rose from his place, Viola right behind him. “If you would follow us,” Bilbo spoke, the dwarves raising from their places, eager to finally learn what exactly had been discussed through the meeting.

The hobbits led them up the street, to the highest hill in the area it seemed, to one of those underground homes. This one had a particularly vivid green circle doors, and upon entering, it looked to be much bigger than outside look of it would suggest. Bilbo immediately let everyone in the central room of his house (“we call our homes smials”), offering them a seat and rushing to get some refreshments, while Viola paced by the window, the careful mask of indifference she showed during the trip to this town a thing of past.

Bilbo returned, and as soon as he served everyone a cup of tea (something especially Dori appreciated) and laid down a big plate of cookies, he went to Viola, laying a calming hand on her shoulder, as he quietly spoke to her. She took a deep breath and nodded, and went to sit next to him. Sipping of his tea, Bilbo spoke.

And weren’t the dwarves surprised at what he told them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhangerrrrrrrr!
> 
> Anyway, I love you all, my dear readers, and thank you kindly for all your support. Keep it coming! xD


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ... or what did Bilbo tell to the dwarves.

 

_Hobbits, being the smallest of species of Arda, are naturally wary of anyone taller than them – which, of course, means that we are wary of everyone but ourselves._

_However, that wouldn't be completely true – while we certainly are wary about Men, we are very much at ease around the Elves, as the Fair folk had been most helpful to us, with no need of us to actually ask first. Men often view us as children incapable of defending themselves, and thus something lesser to them (with the exception of Dunedains, rangers patrolling the Shire from the northern side). Elves gave us the means to stand for ourselves, and it was at their gentle urging that we even opened to other races, learning the languages of those we spoke to._

_Then there are, of course, the orcs - but since our only contact is of the violent nature, there is nothing to be said about them but the fact that every time our ways crossed, there had been blood spilt._

_And one can't forget to mention Ents and Huorns - children of Yavanna, just like us, our cousins in creation. There is no conflict between us, as just like them, we take great care in protecting the growing things in our vicinity, taking only what we need, while not hurting it needlessly._

_Our relations with dwarves had been non-existent since we were turned away from Erebor, so it's impossible to say how exactly we would treat each other, should we meet again. I would like to think that we hobbits would be above holding grudges for old grievances, yet I know all too well it's difficult to forgive being turned away, insulted and left to starve, when we could easily have been helped. And given our long lives, our memories are long as well._

\- from personal notes on races of Arda of Bungo Baggins

_No matter how intense our argument was today, you're still going to be my best friend tomorrow._

\- from a personal correspondence between Bilbo Baggins and Viola Whitfoot

**-o.O.o-**

Bilbo had been more than curious about those dwarves that wanted to meet with the Assembly. According to the missive Viola sent by a harried-looking messenger, the dwarves hailed from the Lonely Mountain, from Erebor, that had been overtaken by Smaug the Terrible, an enormous firedrake. It happened several years ago, and the dwarves had been wandering folk ever since.

At least that was what stood in the official message; the personal missive the messenger delivered to him in private had been a short notice of how dwarves seem to be completely unaware of what happened between their people and the hobbits, and how their King, Thorin son of Thrain, is one very rude and unpleasant person to be around. She finished with a notice of gathering as much food as she can for the dwarves already closest to the Shire, and asked him to organize for more supplies.

When Viola arrived with the dwarven envoy in tow, Bilbo was a bit surprised at how tense the woman appeared. He and Viola went long way back; being closest of friends ever since they were fauntlings, and it took quite a lot of get her in such a state. He gave her a questioning look, which she replied to with an eye roll in the direction of the dwarves and a shrug, and the negotiations with the King and his Advisor could begin.

Bilbo could clearly see his father's notes on races of Arda before him, and remembered what he read in the Memories. He felt the desperation from the very first chapters of Memories, written by Everard Bunce, when the hobbits despaired over losing their home to darkness and loss of their loved ones during the Long Walk. If that was anything to compare to, dwarves certainly didn't have a walk among tulips any more than the hobbits had.

Why would no one else realize that?

He got into argument with Minto almost immediately, half of the Assembly taking stance against allowing the dwarves to settle in the Shire, holding the grudge older than a millennium as if it happened yesterday; as if the proof of not every dwarf being the same wasn't sitting by the same table, and in three copies to that.

He was fighting a losing battle, if no one joined him, and in that moment he shot a look to his friend, who sat at her usual place on the windowsill and had yet to take part in the whole argument. "Viola, _please_ ," he mouthed, and in that moment, Viola placed her cup down and voice clear and loud, she said:

"I'm with Bilbo on this."

"Now _that_ is certainly a surprise," drawled Minto, "Bilbo's unbiased friendly Commander sides with him _yet_ again."

Viola immediately jumped, her finger stabbing the air before her, as she felt herself reddening in anger at the accusation. "How dare you to insinuate that my decisions are not my own, _Mayor_?!" she hissed, accentuating the title. "Just because just like Bilbo I believe we shouldn't add to the wrongs already done does not mean my opinion is not my own and you know it!"

Before she could add anything else, Everard stepped in: "I suggest the Assembly takes to vote on this matter." After everyone fell silent, he continued: "Who is for sending the dwarves away from the Shire?"

Three hands up.

"Who is for allowing the dwarves to stay?"

Bilbo already felt himself losing again – there was no way Viola and he could sway the Assembly now, yet they raised their hands. And together with them, Fortinbras Took, Bilbo's grandfather, raised his as well.

A draw.

"It seems we have a draw here," remarked Everard hesitantly. "A compromise should be made, then."

"Well, since Commander here was all for letting them stay, I think _she_ should come up with something."

"And I suggest you stuff those snides somewhere we won't be forced to listen to them, Polo, and come up with something constructive for once," hissed Viola.

"Says you, Viola, and you have yet to come up with something yourself," snapped Togo in Polo's defence, which in turn got Bilbo's hackles up. See if he would stand anyone to insult her in his presence, since it was him who got her into this.

"Now that would be quite enough," spoke Fortinbras, his voice sounding almost amused, as everyone snapped to attention again, looking at him and waiting what he wanted to say. "As you all know, situations like this happened in the beginning of Shire's history as well; even if the main actors weren't two different peoples, but two different families. I believe that the best solution to this would be the one Bowman the Shapeshifter suggested – for several of ours to enter marriage with several of theirs."

"And the first one to enter marriage should be our dearest Viola," smirked Minto. Viola immediately jumped at attention at that, snapping something right back at him ( _'something about her showing him how a proper marriage is done? Really, Viola,'_ Bilbo thought, _'I would have thought you above making snides at someone else's marriage, even if it's marriage of someone like Minto'_ ), and would probably continue, if Bilbo didn't stop her by the gesture they had for _'trust me in this'_.

"I believe that our _guests_ ," he took great care to stress the word 'guests' in front of the opposition, "should be made aware of what we decided here somewhere peaceful, so they have proper time to think something this important over."

Fortinbras immediately voiced his agreement with the suggestion, his steely glare daring anyone to disagree with him. Bilbo almost dragged Viola with him; the woman almost beside herself at what was now expected of her. Marry a dwarf – a complete stranger, and a member of race that wronged them so.

He quickly ushered them all into the main room of Bag End, rushing to get more tea and some snacks to go with it, before the dwarves would be finally explained what was being discussed during the Assembly meeting.

"Viola," he said quietly to his friend, who had been pacing restlessly by the window, her face pinched. "All will be well. I will stand by you."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. "I know," she replied, opening her eyes to look at him again. "Let's tell them what got me in such a state, shall we?" she suggested with a small smile, and both of them moved to sit by the table.

Sipping from his tea, Bilbo went to explain what the main arguments pro and contra were. The main discord in the Assembly had been caused by the fact that dwarves didn't seem to realize how their ancestors wronged the hobbits; didn't even seem to know about that, which ruffled number of feathers. Majority were of opinion that what hobbits received from them back then was exactly what dwarves should have received from them now.

"Yet, there had been some voting about the issue?" offered Balin, when Bilbo fell silent. Baggins of Bag End nodded. "There was, and it ended in a tie. That's why Thain suggested a compromise, which, should you accept the terms, would allow the dwarves to settle in the Shire."

"And those terms are?"

Bilbo looked at Viola; she gave him a small nod before she addressed the dwarves herself. "The terms are that there must be several arranged marriages between hobbits and dwarves." She paused, and looked around the table. The faces of dwarves showed shock, and was that understanding in the face of the silver haired dwarf? "The first one to be entered is the marriage between me, and one of the dwarves," Viola finished, and lowered her gaze to the cookie she held in her hand, feeling blood rush into her head in embarrassment.

"As a Commander of the Shire; the person responsible for defending our land, the best husband for Viola would be someone of equal rank among you," added Bilbo, watching the dwarves exchange uneasy glances, before the one with a mohawk nodded his head and rose from his place.

"That would be me. Dwalin, son of Fundin, head of royal guard, at your service."

**-o.O.o-**

Well, that went rather… well? Bilbo supposed it could go much, much worse than it went. Sure, Viola and Dwalin were wary of each other and did yet to speak more to each other, but he and Balin already had the treaty outlined, no matter how the King himself scowled through the entire thing.

Dori, Nori and Ori had meanwhile been walking around Bag End; Dori studied the doilies with an eye of someone who would like to do something like that himself, Nori eyed the silverware with appreciatively and Ori absolutely fell in love with the study and the library tucked there, browsing through the tomes and in his mind already cataloguing what was in the bookshelves.

When the outline of the treaty had been polished into version Bilbo deemed proper enough to bring forward the Assembly, it was already evening, and too late for calling another meeting.

Tomorrow was going to be very eventful day, Bilbo thought as he watched Viola, Dwalin and Balin leave Bag End for Viola's home for the night, as it was decided that she and her husband-to-be better have a chaperone before their marriage is properly announced and celebrated.

She gave him one last look that evening, her eyes holding a small sting in them. He understood it; if it were not for his plea for her support, she would never be in the situation of being forced into marriage neither she, nor in all probability the dwarf, wanted.

This was their first real, if unvoiced, argument, and Bilbo only hoped their friendship was strong enough to withstand it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there hasn't been much that hasn't been told in the previous chapter, but I promise you that more is already in the works.
> 
> Oh, and did I mention that I love all this lovely feedback I keep getting for this? Because I seriously do. 
> 
> Also, have some Commander of the Shire and Baggins of Bag End Viola and Bilbo here for the wait for an update of this, all ready for patrol duty, as Bilbo surely will accompany Viola back to the dwarves soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which things get talked about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is here mostly as a filler. Hopefully, I will be able to write more, which would actually move the plot forward. So far, I feel about as quick and as fluid as a carp in a jug of honey about writing this.

 

_While our dearest Shire lived through her own share of difficult times (especially in the beginnings of our settlement here), the so called Fell Winter had been the worst by far. It wasn’t the never ending cold what made it so terrible, oh no. Even if we had to strictly ration our food and think carefully about using every single piece of wood we had, it still wasn’t the worst what could happen to us._

_The water in Brandywine freezing and creating one long bridge to wolves and orcs, on the other hand…_

_They murdered number of us in our homes; before we finally caught something was very, very wrong. My own home had been struck by sudden and destructive attack of group of orcs, my whole family killed in the attack, or surrendering to the injuries and weakened bodies later. While being afraid, I somehow managed to rally our neighbours, and together we drove the orcs away from our village, the others quickly following up on that._

_That day, I had been chosen to become the next Commander, and I vowed to never let my guard down again. No more families will pay the same price as mine did. That I swear._

\- from personal journal of Viola Whitfoot

_The worst thing in the world is to try to sleep and not to._

\- from personal notes of Dwalin, son of Fundin

**-o.O.o-**

When his wife-to-be, Viola Whitfoot, led him and his brother Balin to her home, Dwalin couldn’t help but stare at her from behind.

She moved with grace of someone who knew how to move efficiently, and if her step had the feminine swing of her hips to it, it certainly wasn’t anything he would yell at for. She was petite, compared to the dwarrowdams, and lacked any beard, but her hair certainly made up for that. He could see that, even if she had it tied in a bun at the back of her head again.

One day, he would get to place a marriage braid into this hair; this soft, wavy and gold-brown mass.

Balin by his side elbowed him, when his staring got a bit too much noticeable. He wouldn’t want to make himself and his wife-to-be a gossip material, not yet at least, so he toned it down a bit. But still his eyes were drawn to her form.

As part of the patrol, the attire she wore was in shades of green and brown, to make herself melt into her surroundings. Since her main weapon seemed to be a bow, she wore gloves and bracers, both in grey colours. The only accessory of her on duty attire seemed to be the golden clasp holding her cape. As every other hobbit he had seen so far, she wore no shoes – but while her feet were bigger than one would expect at someone of her size and looked rather sturdy to withstand the lack of protection, they were still rather delicate, and from ankles down covered in soft hair.

Her eyes were the same shade of blue as Master Baggins’, and for a moment Dwalin wondered whether the two were related in some way, since their hair and their eyes seemed to favour the same colours; even their mannerism seemed similar.

She led them to a smial with round rich brown door, welcoming them to her home. Immediately shedding her outer layers, she remained before them only in her pants and outer tunic, quickly pointing them to the kitchen, telling them to make themselves at home; already rushing to prepare their rooms, and laying clean towels for them, so they could bath before they went to sleep.

As Balin remarked, she had been very hospitable host, if a bit nervous around them.

It felt good to be completely clean again, and to do the cleaning with warm water, instead of the freezing water in the streams they passed during their wandering. There had been several washcloths, as well as several bars of soap already prepared for their use. He lifted the bar closest to the bath tub – it faintly smelled on lilac, which, while a pleasant smell (especially on women, his mind oh-so-helpfully supplied), it was certainly something Dwalin preferred not to smell like. Laying in the bed; a bit short for someone of his size, but he would manage, he closed his eyes.

Now, if only he would manage to sleep.

Dwalin couldn’t sleep, as his mind was walking in circles of doubt and nervousness. Thorin was definitely unhappy of having his Head of the Royal Guard to marry a stranger in even stranger land, but Dwalin himself had been rather resigned on his fate at the time.

_Anything for new home for his people_. If the price should be his own happiness (as well as the happiness of his bride-to-be, he was not so selfish to forget completely about her), then he shall pay it, and gladly.

Still, it had been keeping him awake for hours now, and it was grating on his nerves. He was just considering getting up and getting some water, when he heard soft steps in the corridor; steps of someone who was as restless as he was, and from the direction of those steps, was aimed to the kitchen just like he just planned to go.

It was Viola, and when he entered the kitchen, she looked up from the tea she was preparing with a small grin. “I see I was not the only one who couldn’t sleep,” she remarked, and Dwalin only nodded, standing in the doorway awkwardly before Viola motioned him to sit down with her.

“Would you like some tea with me? It’s one of the herbal remedies to help one sleep – but if you prefer spirits or something to put you to sleep, I think I have some brandy in the cellar. Or if you are after more mundane remedies, I believe that I have some books that would serve to the same effect.” Viola felt she was babbling, but seeing corners of Dwalin’s mouth raise up just so lightly made her not to feel like a complete idiot.

“The tea would be more than fine.”

Dwalin just watched the woman flutter around her kitchen; for night she changed into soft pants and some nightshirt, with a dressing-gown wrapped around her as well. Her hair had been finally released from the bun she had it twisted into, leaving a cascading mass in its stead, making Dwalin’s fingers itch with urge to braid his courting braid into it.

His musings were interrupted when Viola cleared her throat to catch his attention. “I was hoping that we might… speak? I know we should have the chaperone present,” she hurried, “but I thought that we might speak more freely without anyone else present.”

“That is true,” nodded Dwalin.

And so they spoke – of their families (Viola’s had been mostly dead, just like Dwalin’s) and little bit of themselves, even if they didn’t say anything too personal. Viola seemed to be rather surprised at Dwalin’s more scholar-like replies, while Dwalin found himself curious about the passion that coloured Viola’s voice as she spoke of the training she and the men under her command undertook. They were chuckling companionably over some of the training mishaps, when Viola grew serious again.

“I think you need to know that if Bilbo didn’t ask for my support before the vote, I would probably vote against letting your people stay or not vote at all,” she said gravely. “But should the treaty your brother and Bilbo drafted come to be fully accepted, I will do my best to stand for your people as I would for mine.”

“That is… good to know?” Dwalin said, unsure what exactly to think about that confession. Before he could say anything, though, he yawned, causing Viola chuckle before she yawned as well.

“Well,” he said, his lips twisting in a small smirk as well, “looks like we got our insomnia problem under control.” In one swing he finished the mug of tea; the liquid warming him pleasantly, while Viola did the same, if at a bit slower pace.

“Good night, Dwalin,” she told him as he opened the door to his room and she continued deeper into the smial. “See you in the morning.”

**-o.O.o-**

The morning came too quickly for Viola’s liking – when she opened her eyes, it felt as if she closed them just a moment before. Still, she had to get up and start on the first breakfast – her guests – well, her maybe-future-husband and his brother – will definitely be hungry, and it certainly would be a show of bad manners to be up later than them.

What to prepare?

For first breakfast, Viola chose the traditional hobbit breakfast – wide range of sweet buns, jams and butter, together with sausages and bread, adding some porridge, cream, honey and fruit. She was just finishing the last preparations, when Balin appeared in the doorway.

“Good morning,” she greeted him with a small smile. She motioned to the set table. “I wasn’t sure about what dwarves eat for breakfast, so I prepared some of everything. Is that alright?” she asked, slightly unsure. Balin gave her a comforting smile. “It’s completely fine, miss Viola,” he said, sitting down and pouring himself some tea before reaching for one of the sweet buns.

If this was how hobbits had their breakfast, he was quite positive this would be another great reason for his people to stay.

Dwalin appeared short after; looking about as rested as Viola herself felt. He greeted them briefly, before helping himself to some of the sausages. They ate quietly, only occasionally one of them saying something before it was time to get finished and leave.

And once again, Dwain felt as if someone just kicked him to the stomach when they went to the Assembly building; even if this time Viola wasn’t dressed in her patrol clothing, opting for a simple skirt in rich dark yellow colour and chemise in the same colour with dark red flowers embroidered into it, with dark red bodice over it, wrapping a light scarf around her shoulders. Instead of the tight bun she wore yesterday, today she pulled her hair into lose bun, with a simple braid in it.

She looked so much softer, and _so much more feminine_ , that Dwalin once again had hard time to keep his eyes on the road and not on her, forcing Balin into not elbowing him in the ribs again to make him pay attention to where he’s going.

If Viola felt his eyes on her, she didn’t show it, as she walked to the Bag End to meet with Bilbo Baggins and the remaining dwarves, so they would arrive to the Assembly at the same time.

Everyone looked tense, and Balin only hoped that the treaty he and mister Baggins drafted the evening before would be accepted. He spent half the night by thinking up arguments about every point of the treaty, and stopped only when he heard someone walking through the smial; this someone actually showing to be _someones_ , and while it was his duty to make sure the two of them do not do anything inappropriate, he contended himself with just listening to their voices instead of joining them.

For someone who didn’t really wanted them in her land, Viola sure tried her best to make them feel welcome, and he only hoped that she would not change her mind in that aspect. His brother really didn’t deserve to be made to marry someone who wouldn’t give a damn about him.

That morning, Thain didn’t waste any time before he got right to the point. “I believe our dwarven guests had been brought up to date?”

“So they were,” nodded Bilbo from his place, sending a questioning look at Viola, who gave him a miniscule smile and nod. “I believe that Baggins and King Thorin’s advisor already have a proposal ready for the Assembly.”

The next few hours had been filled by endless haggling over every single point of the proposal, adding a detail here, removing a detail there and completely rework the rest. She was ready to bang her head against the nearest flat surface when another round of arguing over some trifle matter started (from the short look she took around the table she wasn’t the only one), and didn’t proceed to do it only thanks to Bilbo promptly stepping in and saying that they already missed second breakfast and elevensies, so it would be only proper to have at least a small luncheon.

While wolfing down the food, Bilbo and Viola quietly discussed the matter of moving the dwarves into the Shire. “We would need to get the exact numbers, before we actually start on that,” argued Viola, causing Thorin’s hackles to rise up. To the dwarven King, it almost sounded they wanted the numbers to make them ready for the slaughter, and only quick reaction of Ori, who put two and two together and stepped in, surprising everyone (but mainly himself) when he voiced opinion that this way at least the families would be moved to locations better suited for their exact needs, stopped the situation from escalating into a huge fight.

The rest of the day had been equally tiresome, but at least they were able to reach the much needed compromise.

Dwarves will be allowed to settle in the Shire – if the arranged marriage between Commander Viola Whitfoot and Dwalin, son of Fundin, will come to pass. Which it will, and in matters of a few days – the dwarves will be delivered supplies to make it to the place where the wedding itself will happen, so they would witness it properly, and from there moved further into the Shire.

The hobbits need to know how many dwarves there actually will be settling in their land – so the very next day, Bilbo, Viola, group of scribes and the dwarves will return to the main group of refugees and start the report on their exact numbers.

As soon as possible, the main group of dwarven refugees will be divided to several smaller groups and led to various areas in the Shire, so the population would be spread more evenly.

There were several more things that were discussed in great details, but at the moment, Dwalin couldn’t care less about all of them. All he wanted to do currently was to fell in bed and do not have to get up for days.

Sadly, the dwarves and Viola and Bilbo had several things to discuss yet; one of them being their upcoming wedding. He discreetly touched the bead in his inner pocket. Soon, it will be closed over braid in the mass of Viola’s hair, and part of him wondered how it would look like.

Viola on the other hand had been dreading it all – she could sense that her husband to be wasn’t as harsh as he looked at the first sight, but the lack of knowledge about dwarven culture made her uneasy.

Not to mention, the time in which her wedding gown will need to be done will probably make her seamstress faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some civilian piccie:
> 
>  
> 
> And next chapter - wedding.


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And finally, the wedding. Edited and hopefully improved version (at last xD ).

 

_Arranged marriages are not as common now as they used to be in the beginnings of Shire._

_Those centuries ago, once everyone was settled, had their own field and smial and possibly several animals to keep themselves happy, it became obvious to Bowman that unless he finds a way how to unite his people once again, the whole of Shire would explode in arguments about this or that – with this or that being some trifle growing bigger by each retelling._

_And so he came up with arranged marriages between the most arguing families._

_Once two families had been united by marriage between their members, they had to stand together, which caused that more and more marriages got arranged, so no one would be left alone in the reunited Shire._

_There are several cases of those marriages not being very happy, but what the Memories say, majority of those couplings had been content, if not happy._

_From there on, the number of arranged marriages decreased by each generation, making it only few cases in each generation; majority of marriages being entered by free will and out of love._

_-_ From telling of Everard Bunce, recorder of Memories, chapter two of _History of the Shire_

**-o.o.O.o.o-**

The next few days were filled by enormous amounts of nearly frantic activity – all that could be safely spared had been loaded into carriages and moved to the dwarven camps to be redistributed to them, while Bilbo and a group of scribes, made half out of hobbits, half out of dwarves, had been working round the clock to get the dwarven numbers sorted.

Viola and her rangers were meanwhile doing their best to secure the areas of new dwarven settlement, closely collaborating with dwarven guards, and although there sometimes were incidents with temperaments clashing, usually a strict talking to was the only thing necessary. Yet, Viola dreaded the moment of more serious incident happening, where she would have to punish one of her men by something worse than doing the laundry for the whole team for two months to come.

As she expected, her seamstress nearly had a heart attack, when she told her on the need to have a wedding gown, something difficult and elaborate, ready in several days, while she couldn’t well enough leave her duties to attend regular check-ups with her, so the poor woman would know whether some parts need an adjustment or not. Viola managed to sneak away only once, and while poor Salvia looked to be on the edge of hysterics, her work was as usual on top of everything anyone could ever make in the whole of the Shire. Viola couldn’t wait for the opportunity to wear the gown, and to see the looks in the eyes of her husband to be, when he sees her.

After all, what woman wouldn’t want to look pretty to her husband?

**-o.O.o-**

At the time Viola had been back in Hobbiton, Bilbo took Dwalin aside to explain to him some of the hobbit wedding traditions. They would attempt to join the ceremonies as much as they could, but given the fact that it was dwarves who wanted to remain in the Shire, majority of these traditions will have to be of hobbit origin, otherwise there would be even a bigger uproar than there already was. Once the dwarves would be settled, and hobbits got enough time to get used to their presence, there will be also more space to manoeuvre, but until then, hobbits needed to know that this is still their place.

The wedding was to take place under the biggest of Party Trees in Tookland, so the evening before the wedding, Viola finally arrived with all the necessary things, so the wedding would be as smooth-going as possible.

She sat in the smial given to her to use for the wedding preparations, when a knock on the door sounded.

“Just a moment,” she called, rising from her place before the fireplace. It was probably Bilbo, she thought, wanting to make sure she had everything she needed. To her surprise, it indeed was Bilbo – but _together_ with him was Dwalin and his brother Balin.

“Err… good evening?” tried Viola, feeling herself redden. She was just enjoying some alone time, her hair wild, her clothing rumpled and she was positive she still had flour on her cheek from when she baked several batches of cookies out of sheer nervousness.

“Viola,” started Bilbo, his eyes dancing merrily at the sight of her and for that alone Viola wanted to smack him, “Dwalin asked me whether it would be possible to see you before the wedding, so he could explain some dwarven traditions, and Balin here accompanied him as suits his position as your chaperone.”

“Of course, please, come in,” she hurried, ushering them to the sitting room. “May I offer you some tea and cookies as refreshments?” she asked, not really waiting for their reply before she disappeared into the kitchen, rushing around to get the cups and plates and attempting to straighten her clothing.

At least the flour could be removed from her cheek quickly, she thought, before she walked to join her guests. Not that it mattered that much anymore, since they already saw her in her state of untidiness. But still, a woman needs to make sure that she looks presentable – better late than never, no?

Bilbo and Balin sat a bit further into the room, quietly talking about something, while Dwalin sat on the rug before the fireplace; just where she was sitting not that long ago. Carrying the refreshments to Balin and Bilbo, she moved to sit by Dwalin, taking some tea and cookies with her, gazing into the flames for a moment, unwilling to break the surprisingly easy silence between them.

“Bilbo said that you wanted me to know about some dwarven tradition?” she spoke at last, turning her head to face Dwalin. The warrior nodded. “Yes. “ He reached his hand to her, opening his fist to show her what he was hiding inside. She peered at it – a small, obviously metallic thing with a hole through it.

“It’s a… bead?” she asked carefully, looking up at him. He nodded. “I’d ask to place a courting, as well as marital braid into your hair, if you’d allow it,” he offered; his voice sounding… unsure, but hopeful nonetheless. So far, there wasn’t much space for him in the preparations, but he really would like to do at least this.

Viola’s lips created a smile. “Of course,” she replied. “Is there some specific location for those braids? And should I make one for you as well?”

The courting braid Dwain placed in her hair had been closed by the bead with blue gems on it as adornment. Viola didn’t have any bead herself, but after asking Balin quickly about suitable substitute she quickly went to get her duty clothing, cutting one of the brass buttons off.

“This button,” she explained to Dwalin, “marks me as a part of family of Whitfoots. And now it will show that you and I are together,” she finished the braid, tying it with a piece of string put through the button. If Viola was any judge, the braid she made wasn’t as fancy or detailed as the one Dwalin made her, but at the time being, it would be enough.

Her guests excused themselves soon after that, leaving her alone in the smial, with nothing to do than take a bath and hope for easy sleep, for Yavanna knew she would need to be well-rested tomorrow.

**-o.O.o-**

_Weddings in Shire are one of the best reasons for a party, as we hobbits are fond of saying. Births of a child, birthday or Day of Shire… all of those are important days in hobbit lives._

_But wedding; event uniting two lives, two hobbits (or other couples, rare as they are) – well, that is a special category of important._

_Hobbit weddings are full of various traditions. One of the most important things about the weddings is flowers, or plants in general. While language of the flowers is important during the courting, once a wedding is to be prepared, all notions of flower speech are thrown out of the window, and all that matters is the colour scheme._

_Another important thing for a wedding are wreaths woven by the bride (or one of the partners in general, since those couplings also had been noted to take occurrence – after all, love is not picky, as the saying goes). If blooming flowers are not available, or not viewed appropriate by the person who is supposed to be making the wreaths, there are usually trees that are used in the creation; oak, hibiscus, maple and holly being most common, depending on the season (oak is used in spring, while blooming hibiscus are reserved for summer, various autumn colouring chose maple as the best, and holy is used for weddings in winter)._

_Wedding attire consists of long, often white with colourful lining, gowns for brides, while groom is allowed to wear more colours in his attire, as long as those colours are combined tastefully. When attending weddings, only bride is allowed to wear white – no other female can be dressed in the colour, although the bridesmaids, if the bride wishes for them, can have white accessories._

_The wedding ceremony is held by the most senior male in bride’s family, usually father, uncle, grandfather or – in rare cases – by older brother. If none of these options is available, bride chooses either younger male relative (younger in relation to her) or picks someone unrelated to her by blood. Same goes for giving the bride away – if any of before mentioned relatives is not available, distant relative or a close friend can step in place of senior relative._

_Once the wedding ceremony is finished, bride and groom exchange rings while saying their wedding vows. Most couples use this one, but variety is allowed:_

‘I (name of bride/groom), take you (name of their new partner), to be my wedded (wife/husband). To have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness or in health, to love and to cherish ’till death do us part. And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness.’

_After the exchange of rings and vows, the couple leads the guests to the Party Tree or – in case of bad weather – to the nearest Hall, with feast already prepared. For several hours, the guests and the newlyweds are to be merrymaking, until the time for first dance of the newlywed couple comes._

_For the first dance of newlywed couple the guests create a circle within the couple dances. Dance usually chosen is polka or waltz, although there may be some other dance chosen. Once their dance is finished, everyone is free to dance as they please._

_It is important for the groom to have a place of his own, where he can lead his new wife, preferably carry her over the threshold of his own smial._

_The couple is to be left undisturbed for span of two whole weeks, unless dire circumstances demand their presence._

_Once the two weeks are up, the couple is to be re-introduced into the community as two halves of one being._

\- from _Concerning Hobbits – a study of Hobbit Customs_ by Vulgo Whitfoot

**-o.o.O.o.o-**

The morning came almost too quickly for Dwalin’s liking.

Once he and Balin returned from smial where Viola was staying now, his older brother nearly bullied him to take a bath and go to bed. Once again it felt as if he just closed his eyes, before he had to get up again, and be swept in the hurricane that was named ‘his wedding day’.

The last few days had been hectic as they were, the only reprieve being the short visit to Viola. If his days, full of running all around, organizing everything and everyone, in between creating the rings that the hobbits used to seal a marriage and picking the proper attire had been anything to go by, she had her arms full as well.

She certainly looked that, when he saw her yesterday, even if she was most adorable with that smudge of flour on her cheek.

But what she looked now… Balin had to elbow him again to remind him to breathe. He was standing by the Thain, under the Party Tree, with Balin and Thorin by his side, as he watched Bilbo walk his bride down the aisle. She was dressed in a white gown with wide sleeves to about her elbow, decorated by blue embroidery, her hair down, the braid proudly shown off to the whole world to see. She had wreath of blue flowers on her head, and a small girl behind her held a cushion with another wreath on it. When Bilbo led Viola to stand by Dwalin and she let go of his arm, she turned to the girl, took the wreath from her and turned to Dwalin.

“By this wreath,” she intoned, “I mark you as my groom, Dwalin, son of Fundin, in the eyes of Yavanna, who created us, and in the eyes of my people, who are witnessing our union.”

This was something Dwalin had been profoundly educated on – the wreath, creation of hands of his bride, marked him as her partner, and when he thought about it, it could also serve as one of the courting gifts the fiancée would give her betrothed. Gravely, he bent his knees to not tower over her so much, allowing her to place it on his head.

He felt a bit ridiculous with all the flowers on and about, but if nothing else, it seemed to fit the colour scheme he and his bride somehow chose. Blue – the colour of peace and calm, yet of strength and trust.

He held his hand to her, and with a small smile she took it, standing side by side with him before the Thain, who was waiting for their attention, before he gave them a smile of their own and started the ceremony.

“We have gathered here to witness Viola Whitfoot of the Shire and Dwalin, son of Fundin, of Erebor, to unite their lives and thus bring our people together. Marriage is the most treasured gift, given to us by gods themselves, and…”

Both Viola and Dwalin let Thain’s voice wash over their ears; listening to him to speak of what a marriage should consist of – comfort and trust, strength and loyalty. Yet, even if Thain spoke at length, it still seemed to them that he was by the question “do you take each other as your wedded husband and wife” all too soon. They voiced their agreement, their voices loud and clear for everyone to hear, when they faced each other, holding both hands between them, as they said their wedding vows.

Suddenly, the young Gimli had been there, all smiles and grins, shoving another cushion, this time with rings on it, under Dwalin’s hand. The exchange of the rings had been quick, as both rings fit their owners, and the last part of the ceremony arrived.

First kiss between the newly-weds.

Dwalin looked at his wife, who looked up to him, her lips slightly opened and her eyes wide. Quickly leaning down, he pressed his lips shortly to hers, drawing a gasp from his wife, before the Thain pronounced them husband and wife and the whole gathering exploded in cheers.

 _‘So,’_ thought Viola, running beside her husband along the guard of honour towards the Party Field. _‘For better or worse, I’m married.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And some wedding picture!


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Celebration and meet the in-laws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after who knows how long I finally post an update that I had almost finished, sitting in my folders for quite a long time already. But then I offered my assistance in archiving the hobbit kink meme and whoosh, suddenly, most of my time had been taken by that. So, in case you are wondering who archived the last pages of Tolkien post, or the pages 1 - 29 and 40 - 46 of post 15 and the 12 pages of post 16... you found who did it.
> 
> By the way, some of the prompts really did weird me out. I never fully realized how kinky people are, until I started working on archiving.

 

_As is the way of the Tall Folk, the old ways are being forgotten piece by piece by each generation, their shorter-than-ours lives making their memory shorter, as only a handful of them bothers to record things while they are still fresh in their memories._

_We hobbits view old ways as something sacred; the last remnants of the place we once called our home, now far away on the east._

_One of these remnants are our Party Trees. Those are not just ordinary trees that grow everywhere, made important only because they look nice or are growing at appropriate place._

_Party Trees, or rather saplings of what later became Party Trees, were one of the few possessions of our people that we took painful care of carrying with us, those saplings given to us by our distant cousins created by our Green Lady Yavanna herself. Those cousins, the entwives, as the Tall Folk calls them, gave us these to remember our connection to them, to know that there always will be someone to think of us, and even if we had forgotten that for a time before we reached our new home, planting the saplings had been the first thing we did._

_The lives of trees are long, longer than lives of several of us combined, and those particular trees were created to endure. If one of those trees died because of some disaster, immediately there would be a new tree planted, grown from a seed of another original Party Tree; the fallen tree wood used for creating items of daily need, so we had an everyday reminder of the tree._

_Taking care of those trees did not become a chore for us, and hopefully never will._

\- From telling of Everard Bunce, recorder of Memories, chapter three of _History of the Shire_

**-o.o.O.o.o-**

The Party Field had been covered by tables with food as far as an eye could see; from vegetable dishes over various meats to sweets, so everyone could pick something they liked, with special picked groups of cooks making sure the tables would never grow empty for the day.

The party itself went in a blur for Viola – there had been so many people who wished to congratulate her (she didn’t dare to think of how many were sincere in their congratulations), there were women admiring her dress, children who wished to give her flowers and countless dwarves, who wished to shake hands with her to determine whether their Head of the Guard married a weakling unworthy of himself or not.

Her hand really ached after all those ‘tests’, but obviously it seemed to soothe at least some of their worries.

Finally, Dwalin managed to introduce his wife to the rest of his family – his brother Balin and cousin Thorin, as well as relatives Dori, Nori and Ori, already knew her – but the rest of the family, Gloin and his wife, Oin, Dís and her husband, as well as their children, have yet to be introduced to her properly, and seeing how Thorin frowned every time he saw her, Viola wasn’t sure about their reception of her.

Luckily, young Gimli seemed to be rather taken with Viola, and his adoration of the hobbit woman made Gloin and his wife rather open to accepting his wife to the family. Dís, on the other hand, took after her older brother in her approach and seemed to be very standoffish, even if Víli, her husband, offered Viola a small smile and introduced their sons to her. Kíli and Fíli immediately tried to pull some prank on her, only to be stopped by a very nasty glare, thrown their way by Dwalin. Oin just glared at her, which Viola didn’t take to heart much, since he seemed to be glaring at everyone.

And then it was finally time to the first dance of newlyweds.

“I don’t know this dance,” muttered Dwalin, as he and Viola moved into the place where they should stand on the beginning of the dance. Viola nodded; the movement so miniscule that if he wasn’t looking for it, he would miss it. “It’s rather easy,” she told him, quickly explaining the steps. When they took the proper stance; his left holding her right, his right resting on her hip, as her left rested on his arm, she smirked at him. “And when in doubt, just spin me around a lot in small steps and all that movement of my skirt will cover every misstep up.”

That’s how it was in the end – instead of stumbling over his feet blindly, Dwalin took her advice and spun them around so much that Viola felt as if the world would never stop spinning even after the song ended and new one started playing, and everyone started dancing, leaving them standing where they ended, Viola slightly swaying on her feet and Dwalin moving his right hand from her hip to her back, to press her against him so she could wait for the dizziness to stop and then led her from the dance floor.

“What now?” he asked, pulling chair for Viola and handing her a cup of some juice. She took a sip of her juice, and after a moment of thinking she said: “Well, you will just smile and nod at the adoring public – I have more dancing waiting for me, if I remember correctly.”

“More dancing?”

Before Viola could add anything more, Balin appeared by her side, offering her hand with a small smile. “May I have this dance, sister?”

So this was this ‘more dancing’, Dwalin thought, sipping ale from his tankard. Viola danced with Balin, who in turn led her to Víli, only to have her change partners and have a dance with Thorin (which both of them looked a bit wary about, even if it went rather well from where he stood), Gloin and Gimli (who looked rather red at the idea of dancing with her), all three Ri brothers (Dori had been very proper, leading her around with precision, Nori seemed to be just waiting for proper moment to cause some mischief and Ori seemed to be very relieved that the music slowed down a bit for the dance he and Viola shared and that it was rather short song as well), Kíli and Fíli (who actually were behaving, imagine that) and finally Oin, who – for once – dropped his scowl and actually gave her a smile, when she gave him the mandatory curtsy at the end of their dance. He even led her back to Dwalin, instead of just leaving her in the middle of the dancing floor how she half-expected him to do, offering her a bow himself, before he went back to his brother and his family.

“Wow,” Viola said after a moment of silence, “that actually went quite… well?”

“How so?” asked Dwalin, curious about what had been running through the head of his wife. _His wife_. He sure wouldn’t have thought that he would ever say those words, but here he was.

“Well,” Viola started, counting on her fingers as she spoke, “your brother, Víli, Gloin and Oin are willing to give me the benefit of doubt when it comes to my suitability as your wife, while Thorin and Dís are quite obviously of opinion you couldn’t have landed anyone worse. The Ri brothers are reserved in their opinion so far. Gimli already asked me whether I have a sister that he could marry, which I mark as a positive opinion, while Kíli and Fíli just wait for the opportunity to cause some mischief and blame it on me in one way or another. All in all,” she finished, shrugging, “it _could_ have been much worse.”

“If it’s any consolation,” offered Dwalin, “I’ve already had at least dozen ladies to tell me to treat you nicely or else…! I believe one of them actually mention a very creative use of frying pan.”

Viola chuckled, stretching her legs a bit, leaning slightly against Dwalin in the process. “Sounds like Auntie Donnamira – the way she always threatens people with her frying pan is something the rest of the Shire thinks very… Tookish.”

“You mentioned that your immediate family is dead,” Dwalin blurted, only to stop himself at her darkening face, “so, do you have big family outside of the immediate one?”

“Actually, Auntie Donnamira is not a relative of mine at all,” Viola said, her face lightening up again. “But given all the time I spent with Bilbo, she told me to just call her Auntie as well, as me calling her Mistress Boffin made her feel old,” she finished with a giggle.

She set down her cup. “I do not know about you, _Dwalin_ ,” she stressed his name, looking at him strangely, “but I’m really tired after the day we had today. Would you be willing to dance out last dance for the evening with me, so we could depart to the smial we got to use for the next two weeks?”

Dwalin stood up, offering her his hand to help her to her feet. She swayed a little on standing – the alcohol she drank throughout the day finally catching up with her, even if she didn’t drink as much as number of the guests who definitely looked more sober than her. Adding her now obvious exhaustion, Dwalin quickly led her to the Thain, who announced their dance, so they could get done with it.

This song had been slow and calming, allowing them to just sway to the soft tones of the music, before a small retinue accompanied them to their smial, witnessing Dwalin carrying Viola over the threshold – as the tradition asked – and afterward wishing them good night, they departed back to the Party Field, leaving the newly-weds to stand awkwardly by the entrance to the smial.

This certainly was going to be awkward, Viola thought, when they decided that she will get to use the bathroom first – only to call Dwalin for help, since the dress she wore had such complicated lacings that she was unable to get out of her own clothing. Dwalin’s fingers trembled oh-so-lightly when they made contact with Violas skin that it sent flush up Viola’s cheeks, no matter how hard she willed them not to do that.

The bath Viola quickly took felt divine to her tired muscles, even if she rushed in order not to make Dwalin wake; the dwarf no doubt exhausted just like her, if not more, since his outfit seemed much more elaborate and definitely heavier than her own. Her fingers played over the braid Dwalin wove into her hair – was it alright to unbraid these for bath, or was she to wait for her husband to take it apart? For the time being, she just washed the braid as much as she could without taking it apart, drying herself and slipping her nightgown on. She felt strangely bare in just her sleeping clothes, as she sat on the bed they were supposed to be sharing from this night on.

Dwalin seemed to share some of the awkwardness, as he just stood between the door for a moment, before Viola gave him a small smile and patted the bed. “Come here,” she said, “I promise not to bite, since that would involve more energy than I actually have.”

Dwalin snorted and walking over, he just dropped on the bed, taking only the time to take off his shirt, before laying down.

It was strange to fall asleep next to someone else all of sudden, but once Viola closed her eyes and focused on the breathing of the dwarf next to her, she drifted to sleep quicker than ever before.

%MCEPASTEBIN%

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the place where I say that I have no idea where I am going with this fic?!


End file.
